The Lost Baroness Page 18

  "Then we'll take this slow and easy." He nibbled his way across her shoulder and back again to her throat, enjoying the small shivers that shook her with each nip.

  She touched his chest. "I thought all men were hairy. You are smooth. Warm." Her fingers circled his nipple, sent arrows of desire straight to his groin. She walked them up to his neck, along his shoulder. "I have never seen hair like yours. Like a gloria--I do not know the English word."

  "Halo," he supplied, holding need on a tight rein.

  "Ja, a halo. A golden circle about your head. Like an ängel, I thought." Her smile was quick and gently mocking. "Later I knew you were djävul, for you tempt me to sin."

  "I do, huh?" He framed her face, bent to kiss her. God she is sweet!

  Her response was all any man could ask for. Unable to wait, Buff fitted himself closer to her, slid into her honeyed depths, and found paradise.

  The desperate imperative of the first time was gone, replaced by a delicious, languorous hunger that cried to be fed slowly, with infinite care and concentration. He made love to her with his body, his hands, his mouth, his words. He whispered to her what he'd like to do, what he was doing, using words both poetic and crude.

  Her formless cries of yearning and need only fed his desire, until the languor turned to urgency and their bodies strained toward completion.

  He felt the climax build in her, in himself, and was caught in the immutable power of his own.

  Was swept along, in a paroxysm of pleasure that left him weak and drained.

  Gradually, as reason and thought returned, his mind started back to work. Siri slipped gradually into sleep, lulled by his soothing touch, as he moved one hand absently over her shoulder and along her captive arm.

  Unable to relax, he found himself wondering what the future had in store for him. He'd all but forgot his quest for Anders' sister. The message he'd brought to Longstreet had been the reason he'd come here instead of San Francisco, a city with far more allure to a man like him, one with itchy feet and a thirst for excitement.

  He'd planned to learn what he could here, then head south, for a few weeks of dissipation in the city he'd heard called Baghdad-by-the-Sea. Astrid Thorsdotter had been missing for almost fourteen years. How much difference could a few weeks make?

  Now, every time he thought about moving on, a curious reluctance came over him. Astoria was the last place in the world he wanted to be, yet he didn't want to leave, either.

  The sense of wonder, the thirst for excitement, that had driven him around the world, were still there. The other side of the next hill still called him. He was only twenty-five. His pa hadn't married until he was close to thirty.

  He hadn't been to Australia yet.

  Pa had never got there. Once he'd married Ma, he'd settled down and stayed close to home. Seemed like a man lost his wanderlust, once he got domesticated.

  Buff couldn't imagine staying in one place the rest of his life. The world was too big and too full of beautiful places and interesting people. Why, he'd hardly touched what Europe had to offer, had scarcely sampled the exotic countries of the East. He'd never seen his own country, either, except close to home and the part along the stage and rail routes from Boise City to Boston.

  He was too young to settle. So why was he even thinking about it?

  Siri stirred and a lock of her hair slithered across his arm, silky, sensuous. Desire stirred again in his belly, banked embers still ready to burst into flame. He ran his hand along her back, thinking how different a woman felt. How smooth, how soft, how sleek. Warm, as if they all came from a tropical clime.

  How hot she'd been, when he'd slid into her, honey-wet and welcoming. He'd never--

  Great God! What had he done.

  He'd come inside her. Twice.

  What had he been thinking of?

  Had he been thinking?

  * * *

  When Mrs. Leong knocked on the door, Siri was already up and wondering where her clothes had disappeared to. The only garment she had been able to find in their room was the brilliant blue silk robe. It covered her, but she was sure it hid nothing of her womanly attributes, for it clung to her every curve and hollow with a sensuous caress.

  "Kom in," she called, holding the neckline of the robe closed.

  If only her fingers weren't so rough. They caught on the delicate fabric until she stopped touching it, for fear of ruining it.

  The Chinese woman entered, carrying a tray. "You eat now," she said. "Go Li Ching short while."

  "Where are my clothes?"

  "I bring." Mrs. Leong set the tray on the stand. "Eat while hot. Rice good."

  Buffalo groaned. "Rice?" He sat up, and the blanket slipped from his torso, to puddle in his lap.

  "Rice good" She departed, locking the door behind her.

  "She sounds just like my aunt. 'Rice good, fill belly'," he mimicked in a sing-song tone.

  Four covered lacquer bowls sat on the tray, along with a steaming jug and two of the small handless cups. Spoons and chopsticks lay along one side. Siri looked at the tray, wondering how she could serve Buffalo with only one hand.

  Before she could say anything, he'd stood. Without a trace of modesty, he went to the screen in the corner. "Pour me some tea, will you, Siri," he said. "I'll be out in a minute."

  Tea she could manage. While she waited she peeked under the lids. Rice in the largest bowl, of course. Chunks of salmon in another, a meat mixture in the third, and a pungent-smelling soup in the last. Her stomach growled and her mouth watered. Perhaps I will be able to eat more than a few bites, she thought. I hope so.

  "Something smells good." He came from behind the screen, dressed only in britches.

  Siri averted her eyes, for the mere sight of his naked chest dried her mouth and caused small wiggling things to swarm in her belly. "Sit," she said, gesturing at the single stool. "I will serve--"

  "The hell you will! My arm's not broke!" He curled an arm around her waist and pulled her to the stool. "You sit. Can you use chopsticks?" Without waiting for an answer, he moved the stand closer, so she could use it as a low table. In a moment, the lids of the bowl were tossed onto the bed and he was holding out a spoon to her.

  "I am not good with chopsticks," she admitted. "Mrs. Leong tried to teach me, but I am clumsy." She dipped the spoon into the soup. It was hot, and bit her tongue as she tasted it. But delicious!

  She took a second sip, realized the bite came from the flavor, not just from the temperature. Her third dip into the bowl brought up a sliver of something green. She wasn't sure what it was, so she tasted it cautiously. Onion? Perhaps.

  "You like that?"

  Siri nodded. "It tastes very good," she said. "Do you want some?"

  "No. If you like it, you can have it all." He dug into the bowl of meat with chopsticks, using them as if he'd had much practice. "Eat some rice too," he said, holding the bowl in front of her. "Soup's not enough."

  "No, I--"

  He spooned an enormous portion of rice into the soup bowl. "Rice very good. Fill belly," he said again.

  Although she knew she could never eat so much, Siri stirred the rice into the soup. She would try. She must try, for he expected it of her.

  All the while he was wielding the chopsticks with great skill. "Where did you learn to do that?" she said, between bites.

  "What? Oh, you mean these?" He picked up a chunk of salmon, carried it to his mouth. "My aunt. She taught me the winter we were in the gold camp. Made me practice until I was almost as good as she was. I'm out of practice now, though. Haven't used them much for years."

  If he was out of practice, she would have hated to see him when he was using the chopsticks regularly. He could pick up a single grain of rice with no difficulty. Siri had trouble with anything smaller than a bean.

  "Your aunt? She uses chopsticks? Where did she learn?"

  "I guess I haven't told you about my family, have I? Well, Soomey's Chinese. She and Tony were working the gold diggings in Idaho when m
y uncle Silas saved them from a mob. He hired them before he knew Soomey was a girl." His eyes looked somewhere beyond the walls of the small room. "Took her a while to convince him she was old enough for marriage, too, but she didn't give up easy." He chuckled. "Soomey never gives up on anything she decides she wants. Silas says she could teach a mule stubborn."

  Siri had many questions, but before she could ask any of them, the door opened again. A small Chinese boy set a bundle inside, gabbled something, and ducked back out. This time the lock did not click.

  She started to rise.

  "Finish your breakfast," Buffalo said. "We've time."

  "I am not--"

  "Siri, I'm not a man to abuse a woman, but I swear to God, if you don't stop telling me you're not hungry, I may strangle you. Now sit down and eat. You haven't made a dent in your food."

  She sat. After a while she dipped up another bite.

  The food did not stick in her throat. Slowly she ate, until the bowl was almost empty.

  She would never tell him it tasted almost good.

  * * *

  Crystal's door was closed when Jaeger came up the stairs, but there was a bar of light showing under it. He put his ear to the thin wood panel and listened. The sounds were familiar, gross, animalistic grunts and groans. She had a customer.

  Gud! I will not have so much work to do.

  He went into the room he'd rented. Last night he had removed all his possessions, but he wanted to make sure no trace of him remained. He wiped every surface, removed the bedding and shook it, rinsed the slop bucket and tossed the water from the open window. He was looking under the bed when he heard Crystal's door open. Voices came from the hallway, then a single set of footsteps faded as someone went downstairs. He waited until the low thud of the door closing told him Crystal was alone.

  "Who is it?" she called, when he knocked.

  "Me, Herman," he replied. "Are you free?"

  The door opened quickly. "Oh, honey, come on in. I've really missed you. Did you get your business all taken care of?"

  "Yes, everything is taken care of."

  He sat in the room's only chair and pulled her onto his lap. "There is only one more small thing I must do." The excitement of the hunt still stirred his blood, and he might as well enjoy this little whore one last time. She was extraordinarily skilled.

  His first kiss was gentle. The next one was not. She winced when he sank his teeth into her lip.

  He caught her wrists, held them with one hand while he wrapped them with the heavy twine he'd already cut to the proper length.

  "What are you doing?" she cried, fighting him.

  He slapped her. "Be silent!"

  She gasped, then opened her mouth to scream.

  He closed his hand across her throat. Squeezed. "You will not scream. If you do, I will hurt you very much. Do you understand?"

  Her eyes were enormous. Her mouth worked, but only hoarse wheezes emerged.

  "Gut! Now, I will show you some new tricks. You will find them...diverting." he lifted her, tossed her onto the bed. Before she could roll aside, he had her wrists tied to the rusty iron headboard.

  "Why? Why are you doing this?" Her voice was a harsh whisper.

  Perhaps he had squeezed harder than he'd intended. "It amuses me."

  Standing at the foot of the bed, he took his clothing off, letting her see again his magnificent musculature, his enormous penis, and his handsome Prussian face.

  He was fully erect, and he could have fucked her then. But pleasure deferred was all the better flavored. He knelt astride her. "Your mouth is clever," he said, smiling down at her. "You may show me just how clever it is. If you give me pleasure, I may untie you."

  She worked him with lips and tongue, bringing him to the brink of climax. He drew back, and waited until the need ebbed into mere wanting. After a while, he turned her and mounted her from the back, bringing her to orgasm, and laughing as she threshed and moaned.

  "Let me loose," she said, when he turned her onto her back again, "so I can touch you."

  "Ah, my little schatz, you must not touch me tonight." He caught her nipple, pinched until she cried out. "I will do the touching. I am in command, you see. Tonight we will only do what I desire."

  For two hours and more he had his way with her. Twice he brought her to completion, once with gentle touches and sweet words, the second time with force and pain. Whores, he knew, liked to be hurt as much as they liked to be pleasured.

  When he tired of the game, she lay quiescent under his hands, exhausted and without hope. He knew she had at last understood he was done with her.

  No woman who had ever warmed his bed had gone to another man afterward.

  He made sure of that.

  All the time he had been working her, he had held himself in check. Now the need threatened his control. He rose above her and fitted himself to her. Slowly he penetrated her yet again. Slowly he pushed in, in, until she could take no more of him. "Wake up, little schatz. I want to watch your face."

  She moaned and moved her head from side to side.

  He slapped her lightly, affectionately. She had been a good girl and he was pleased with her. "'Wake up', I said. Open your eyes."

  Her eyes, pain glazed and only half-focused, opened, fixed on his face.

  "You are a good girl." He reached to the table beside the bed, picked up the waiting knife. "Now we finish."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Once Siri and Buff were seated in Li Ching's sanctum, he waited with outward patience while the other man wrote with rapid strokes of a pointed paintbrush.

  "I have good news for you," Li Ching said, when he'd set the brush aside. "An associate has arrived from Portland. He brings word there is a new boarding house for maritime men in the city. It is operated by a woman who calls herself Martha Peterson."

  "Martine!" Siri leaned forward. "And mina barn? Does she have mina barn with her?"

  "My associate was not seeking your children, Mrs. Trogen. He is a purveyor of teas and spices, and was dealing with the cook." Clapping his hands, Li Ching waited until the door behind him opened. He spoke briefly to the young man who appeared. "I have sent for him. Perhaps he saw something."

  Li Ching had tea brought. Buff sipped at the smoky tasting infusion, thinking that some teas were better than others. He noticed Siri made a small face and merely touched her lips to the rim of the delicate china cup she held.

  "Perhaps you will tell me of your adventures while we await my associate. Something delayed you, yes? Were you able to learn anything at Daws' Landing?"

  Buff related what had happened, at least the bare bones of it. He concluded with, "I'd like to go back and talk to Daws, although I doubt it'll do much good. The way she covered her tracks, I'll bet Daws knows nothing about where the furniture went."

  "I agree." Li Ching leaned back, tapped his fingertips together. "Perhaps you will allow me to send one of my men to speak with Daws' cook. Your people often ignore mine, as if we were invisible. It is sometimes quite convenient."

  "I'd be obliged. As soon as I find someplace safe for--"

  A knock interrupted him. At Li Ching's command, the door opened to admit a young Chinese man who bowed low.

  "He does not speak English," Li Ching told them. "I will translate." He rattled off a long string of syllables.

  The young man answered, shaking his head.

  Li Ching said something more.

  Again the headshake.

  Li Ching frowned, gestured him to the side of the room. "He did not get inside the house. The woman apparently does not trust people of my race, for the kitchen is in a separate building and the cook is not allowed to enter. He did see the woman, however, and his description of her matches the one her cook at Daws' Landing provided."

  He paused and stroked his short beard. "Very strange. Her cook at Daws' landing also served. In this new house, the cook carries food to a covered area near the back door and passes it through a window. No one is allowed to enter or
leave the house through the back door, which is kept locked and barred at all times. Even to go to the... ah, the outhouse, the maid must enter and return through the front door."

  "Does that sound like your mother-in-law?" Buff asked Siri.

  "She does not trust the Chinese," Siri told him, "but she has never seemed to fear them."

  "I think it is not fear, but secretiveness," Li Ching said. "There is something in that house she does not wish to have seen."

  "That's what I think, too," Buff agreed. "Something like a couple of kids that don't belong to her." He turned to Siri. "I know you get seasick, but this time you'll just have to suffer. Can you be ready to go to Portland tomorrow?"

  Her face went stark white and her mouth worked. "I do not know," she said after a long silence.

  "We'll get to Portland, one way or another. Please tell your associate I am eternally in his debt." Buff bowed to the young trader.

  The trader bowed too, and spoke a few fluid syllables.

  "He was gratified you found his information useful," Li Ching translated. He waved a dismissal at the young man. "Now," he said, "I have a favor to ask of you."

  "Anything I can do," Buff told him, "as long as it's legal."

  "It is entirely legal. Only a message I wish carried to your worthy uncle. Now I believe you must tend to Mrs. Trogen. She is distressed."

  She sure was. Buff had been watching her from the corner of his eye. Huddled into herself, she seemed to have shrunk, like a bladder with all the air let out. "I'll be back," he told Li Ching, before scooping her up.

  He sure hoped Mrs. Leong still had room for them. They needed a private place to sort this out.

  * * *

  Back in the little room behind the Chinese store, Buff sat on the bed and held Siri in his arms. He'd been doing a lot of that lately. Only trouble was, he'd rather the circumstances were a little different.

  "Siri, talk to me," he said, after a while. "There's more than seasickness to your not wanting to get on a boat, isn't there? You're terrified. Aren't you?"

  She didn't respond. If it weren't for the slight motion of her shoulders with each breath, he would have wondered if she was even alive.